


Need You Now

by WorryinglyInnocent



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: A Monthly Rumbelling, F/M, Woven Lace, cw: addiction, cw: addiction recovery, cw: alcoholism, cw: withdrawal symptoms
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-31
Updated: 2019-08-31
Packaged: 2020-10-03 23:41:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,581
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20461439
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WorryinglyInnocent/pseuds/WorryinglyInnocent
Summary: Woven Lace. Following on fromOn the Lonely Nights like TheseandSharp Edges, Lacey is going sober, and is having a rough time with alcohol withdrawal. Weaver is there to help her through.Written for the @a-monthly-rumbelling prompt: “Don’t touch me.”Title taken from the Lady Antebellum song of the same name.





	Need You Now

“Don’t touch me.”

The words were whispered with hardly any power behind them, but Weaver knew not to disregard them and hovered with his hand over Lacey’s back. She was slumped on the bathroom floor, her forehead resting on her arms, which were in turn resting on the rim of the toilet. How she’d known that he was going to touch her was anyone’s guess; her eyes seemed to be closed. 

Finally, he let his hand drop back to his side, and he slid down from his crouched position beside her to sit on the floor. Slowly, Lacey lifted her head to look at him blearily.

“If I’d known it was going to be this disgustingly horrible, I would never have stopped drinking.” She gave a little sigh and ran a hand through her hair. “Ok, I knew it was going to be this horrible which is probably why I didn’t do it sooner.”

“You’re doing it now,” Weaver pointed out. “That has to count for something.”

She had invited him over for the ceremonial dumping of all her alcohol down the sink, saying that she needed someone to witness it in order to keep her honest. It had taken a while for her to commit to the change, still afraid of not liking the person she was going to be by the end of it, but once Lacey put her mind to something, it took a lot to sway her from her course. However wretched she might be feeling now, she would persevere, and Weaver was proud of her. Her perseverance until now had always been in a somewhat self-destructive direction. Now, she was determined to change her life. 

The first day had been all right, and as they had laughed and joked together on the sofa, Weaver had almost managed to convince himself that perhaps this wasn’t going to be such a bad experience for her after all. He knew better, though. He’d seen enough addicts of all shapes, sizes and choices of poisons go through processing and cells to know that withdrawal was seven shades of hell no matter what drug you were missing. Hell, he got headaches and jitters when he forgot his morning coffee, so he really couldn’t talk. 

It was the first night, coming up for twenty-four hours since her last drink, that had been the kicker. She’d been sick until there was nothing left to come up, and then kept retching on nothing as soon as Weaver tried to get some water into her. Her skin was pale and clammy, soaked with cold sweat, and Weaver was beginning to seriously worry about her becoming dehydrated. If she could get through the first forty-eight hours of symptoms then she would hopefully have broken the back of it, and everything would get easier from then on. 

“Think you can manage some water now?”

Lacey wrinkled her nose. “It tastes horrible.”

“That’s because you’ve just thrown up. You need to keep your fluids up, Lace, or you’ll shrivel like a raisin.”

She managed a little huff of laughter at that and reached out a hand for the glass, taking miniscule little hummingbird sips until she was sure she wasn’t going to bring it back up again. Weaver made a note to go out to the drug store and get some rehydration sachets when they opened. It was three in the morning so not a lot of point in going now, even if he was wide awake. 

Lacey shivered, and Weaver pulled the folds of her bathrobe in around her. 

“Come on, let’s get back to bed.”

“There’s no point, I can’t fucking sleep anyway,” Lacey muttered. She sat back on her haunches, pushing her damp, matted hair out of her face again, before looking over to Weaver. 

“Thanks for being here,” she said. “I know I’m a complete mess at the moment.”

“No, you’re not.” 

“You’re only saying that because you love me.”

“I’m saying it because it’s true. And because I love you.”

He reached out towards her face, wanting to kiss her, to reassure her, but Lacey batted his hand away. 

“Don’t touch me,” she muttered. “I’m sick and sweaty and disgusting and you can’t possibly want to.”

“Lacey, we’ve just established that I love you. Besides, I’ve seen you in worse states than this.”

Lacey grimaced. “Yeah, ok. There’s no need to remind me.”

She reached out for his hand and placed it against her cheek. She felt hot and flushed, although her skin was still too pale. Hopefully she wouldn’t be sick again; her lips were the same colour as her cheeks. 

Weaver leaned in and pressed a kiss to her forehead. “You’ll get through this, Lace. I know you will. You’re tough, always have been.”

Lacey gave the briefest of wan smiles.

“What would I do without you, John?”

Weaver didn’t reply. She let him help her off the floor and take her back into her bedroom, getting her settled on her bed and pulling the covers over her. She took his hand as he spooned up behind her, pulling him in close.

It was a good question, and one that Weaver didn’t have an answer to. What would Lacey do if he wasn’t in her life? He didn’t think he could entirely credit himself with her attempts to turn her life around; she would have got there in her own time eventually, he probably just expedited the process slightly.

In the back of his mind, he had to wonder if he would ever have got together with Lacey in the first place if it hadn’t been for the fact they were both so broken. Weaver liked helping people, in his own way. It was why he had joined the police in the first place, although so many years of seeing the absolute worst in society had jaded him and left him wondering why he’d ever started in this career.

It was undeniable that Lacey had first come onto his radar because she needed him. Well, not necessarily him per se, but she needed someone. She was going off the rails spectacularly and she needed someone to pull her back before she went too far.

Various people in his life had said, at various points, that ultimately, he needed to be needed. He had seen someone who needed someone, and he had become that person, falling ever harder and faster in the process, until he and Lacey were two train wrecks on a crash course towards each other and they’d finally ended up exploding into a tangle of machinery and limbs. And now, of course, he was hopelessly in love with her.

Would he have ever fallen in love with her if she hadn’t needed him? Would she have ever fallen in love with him if she hadn’t needed him? He thought back to the first time they made their feelings known to each other, and the words he’d said to her. _Don’t do this unless you mean it, Lacey. Don’t mistake gratitude for something else_.

Lacey had been afraid that once she was sober, he would no longer like the person she became; all of their relationship had been conducted whilst she was on a downward spiral. On the day he’d told her he loved her she had been at her lowest ebb. Weaver had no fears in that direction. Now that they existed, his feelings would remain. He just wondered if they would ever have existed in the first place if Lacey had already been a different person.

He closed his eyes, trying to push the matter to the back of his mind. Whether Lacey would still want him after she no longer needed him was something to be dealt with when the time came; and trying to analyse his own feelings with regard to a hypothetical situation that would never come to pass, that of meeting Lacey in a different time and place, was both pointless and confusing. The circumstances were what they were. Whether or not their relationship was healthy, they were in it now, and all they could do was go along for the ride and see where it took them. Once Lacey was well again, that would be the time for getting to grips with where they were going.

For now, Lacey wanted him, needed him, and loved him, and he felt exactly the same way about her. For now, that was all they needed.

She squeezed his hand, rubbing her thumb over his knuckles. The action surprised him; her breathing had become so light and even that he’d thought she’d got off to sleep after all.

“I love you,” she whispered. “Thank you for everything that you’ve done for me.”

“It’s nothing.”

“No, it’s something.”

There was a long pause; Weaver didn’t see the benefit to labouring the point any further.

“One day, I’d like to be the one looking after you when you’re sick,” Lacey said presently. “You’ve done it for me so many times. I’d like to be the one keeping you safe.”

“Oh Lace.” In spite of everything, he had to chuckle. “I’m a cop. Keeping me safe is a slightly more dangerous job than keeping you safe.”

“I know. But I can keep you safe here.” She brought their linked hands up to her chest, pressing her palm over her heart.

As she began to drift off at last, Weaver started to hope that they might be all right after all.


End file.
